


You're so pretty, pretty, pretty

by plumtrees



Series: UshiShira Week 2017 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Crossdressing, Crushes, M/M, Pre-Relationship, School Festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: Day 4 for UshiShira Week: AUs+Cultural Festival-Truthfully, when Ushijima first saw Shirabu, he didn’t think much of the second year. Many of the other first years called himpretty.Scarywas also a favored label. Ushijima couldn’t quite deny either. Shirabu had a bit of a delicate build, thin-boned and slender, but despite that he had a sharp tongue and an unnervingly wide perfectionist streak. He was particularly fond of grilling Semi, maybe perhaps because he was already being viewed as his successor, but beyond that, he treated everyone with equal amounts of disdain.Not that Ushijima particularly minded. He was here to play volleyball and better himself in that field, not be coddled by upperclassmen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All the third years are first years, Shirabu is still a second year, Goshiki is a third year (and the captain)

Truthfully, when Ushijima first saw Shirabu, he didn’t think much of the second year. Many of the other first years called him _pretty_. _Scary_ was also a favored label. Ushijima couldn’t quite deny either. Shirabu had a bit of a delicate build, thin-boned and slender, a little on the short side compared to all the upperclassmen, but despite that he had a sharp tongue and an unnervingly wide perfectionist streak. He was particularly fond of grilling Semi, maybe perhaps because he was already being viewed as his successor, but beyond that, he treated everyone with equal amounts of disdain.

Not that Ushijima particularly minded. He was here to play volleyball and better himself in that field, not be coddled by upperclassmen. Shirabu’s advice was often unsolicited but extremely helpful, and most days he’d take the initiative to ask him to stay behind and practice spiking a little more. Always Ushijima and only Ushijima, oddly enough.

Ushijima knew it wouldn’t be fair to speculate, but it was almost too obvious that they were already considering him for the starting lineup. He wasn’t falsely modest enough to deny the fact that he was quite skilled, even for Shiratorizawa’s stringent standards, and looking at the current lineup, he knew that he was at least marginally better than both wing spikers.

Ushijima never mentioned it, but he figured if it was going to happen then it was only right for the starting setter to know what kind of tosses Ushijima specialized in, thus, all these practice sessions they’ve been having. Initially, Shirabu’s tosses varied widely, both in timing and in height, like he was testing how high he could go, how far he could adjust in midair. He never missed one, but as time went on the tosses became more consistent, more comfortable, more tailored, it seemed, for him.

Shirabu never used quicks, as far as he noticed in matches. He remembered Semi ranting about it as well, hissing that maybe the only reason he didn’t do it was because he didn’t know how to, but Ushijima could see at least that Shirabu had more than enough skill to pull off a quick if he wanted to. He just simply didn’t.

Ushijima didn’t ask about it either. If he could get a toss that he could slam down, that would be more than enough to secure a point.

He landed on his feet after another successful spike. Outside, the crickets are chirping. It’s already dark. The moon peeked through the open gym doors like a curious eye.

“That’s good enough for today.” Shirabu declared, only slightly out of breath. Ushijima nodded and bowed low.

“Thank you for practicing with me, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu didn’t even respond, as usual, already walking to the pole to untie the net. “Hurry on home now. Kids like you need all the sleep you can get.”

“I’m hardly classifiable as a child, from anyone’s standards.” Ushijima replied, gathering stray balls to his chest. “And I can help. My mother doesn’t mind me coming home late at all.”

“Will you ever stop taking everything so literally?” Shirabu muttered, perhaps thinking he couldn’t hear. Ushijima wisely chose not to respond.

They rarely ever worked in silence, with Shirabu listing off stationary exercises he could try, or criticizing certain aspects of his form. He always took those to heart, but recently, all that advice grew scarce until Shirabu stopped saying anything at all. Ushijima wondered why that was, but before he could muster up the proper timing to bring it up, the gym was already cleaned up, and Shirabu was headed towards his bag, pulling his jacket over his shoulders.

“Good job today.” Shirabu said, covering up a yawn with the back of his hand while the other idly tossed the gym keys into the air, landing neatly into his hand even without him looking.

“Thank you for your hard work.” Ushijima responded dutifully.

He wasn’t sure what brought it on. Shirabu was hardly the definition of affectionate, but when he said those words, Shirabu laughed, little more than a brief snort, before reaching out and ruffling his hair.

It was almost strange, in hindsight, considering Ushijima was taller (a fact Shirabu always seemed annoyed about, for some reason) and broader, and yet here he was being petted by an upperclassman who was a head shorter than him.

Still, it felt…quite nice, if he was being rather honest, and if he did happen to bend down and lean in to the touch when it lingered, no one would ever know.

 

-

 

Unfortunately, Shiratorizawa, even with its rather revolutionary curriculum and world-class facilities, was still a high school. And like many other high schools, it had traditions, values, a mission, a vision, goals.

It also had a cultural festival.

Now, Ushijima’s views on cultural festivals were neutral at best, but Shiratorizawa’s cultural festival prided itself in being more…extravagant…than most, and that was how he found himself awake and in the gym at 5AM, decorating the rafters with enough streamers and banners and soft fabric worthy of a grand-scale wedding. The other first years were there as well, Reon calmly draping and pulling fabric until it was even with the opposite side, Tendou hanging upside down and looking far too energetic than anyone had any right to be at this hour. Semi, Yamagata, and Seokawa were down on the ground, arranging tables and covering them with baby pink tablecloths, a vase with a fake flower in the middle of the set-up.

“Hey, first year!” Their captain called out. Probably. Ushijima wasn’t quite awake enough to distinguish voices from afar. “Stop playing around before you fall and break your neck!”

“Yes, Goshiki-senpai! Sorry, senpai!” Tendou crooned, smoothly twisting back and around until he was sitting properly on the rafters again, angling his head to stare expectantly at Goshiki like a dog that finished a trick and was now waiting for a treat. As expected, Goshiki threw him a thumbs up before retreating back into the changing rooms.

By the time Ushijima was finished decorating his side of the gym, he carefully climbed down, and just as his feet touched the floor, a door slammed, somewhere in the general vicinity of the changing room, and when Ushijima looked up, he very nearly fell back in shock.

When he first heard that the volleyball club’s yearly tradition was to hold a crossdressing maid café, Ushijima internally wondered why this concept was so appealing. He himself had never been to a maid café, but the idea of it was strange to him. What was the allure of males in dresses?

Well, _this_ apparently. Even with Shirabu storming across the gym, face contorted in shame and rage, Ushijima couldn’t look away. His feet were caged in Mary Janes, lavender lace trimming the edges of it. His legs were covered in white, smooth and slender and long. The view of his legs was interrupted by the skirt in all its black satin glory, topped with a white, frilly apron that didn’t look like it was made more to be an accessory rather than to protect the clothing beneath it. Everything was topped off with a lace cap, pinned to his head and tilted at an angle.

 _He looks…_ Ushijima swallowed, suddenly finding his mind utterly blank. Shirabu was on his way to brushing past him, but before he could, Ushijima finally found the courage to call out.

“You look very nice, Shirabu-san.”

The moment that was said, it seemed that everything around them suddenly fell silent. Shirabu had stopped, standing statue-still and staring at him strangely, a look he used to reserve only for Tendou. 

Ushijima wasn’t entirely sure what the silence was for, but it allowed his to take in his senior’s features just that little bit more. He even had makeup on, eyes lined, just enough to emphasize their angularity, his cheeks had a subtle blush, lips shimmering with pink gloss. Goodness, _very nice_ didn’t even do him justice.

“Thanks. I guess?” Shirabu answered, blinking rapidly. He moved forward again, steps markedly less angry. He raised his hand then and Ushijima instinctively bent down, lowering his head, and as expected, the flat of his palm brushed briefly over his hair, affectionate and soft.

“Nice work on the décor.”

Ushijima nodded and Shirabu cleared his throat, hand slipping form his head before continuing to his destination, albeit more calmly and this time carefully smoothing down his skirt and adjusting his cap.

“Did you just,” Yamagata gasped beside him, “get a head-pat from the Ice Senpai?”

“Damn Wakatoshi, teach me your ways.” Tendou screeched, grabbing his red hair in frustration.

“Here I was thinking that Wakatoshi was the normal one among us…” Soekawa mumbled, pressing a finger to his temple.

Ushijima blinked down in confusion at all his friends, suddenly surrounding him and grabbing at his sleeves.

“What are you all talking about?”

The chaos halted, and all of them turned, in eerie unison, to give him a perfectly flat look.

“I don’t know if I should pray for Shirabu-san or Wakatoshi.” Reon muttered.

“Both.” Semi rolled his eyes. “They’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Hey!” the captain shrieked, and everyone immediately scattered, wisely keeping their gaze low at the glimpse of another pair of slender legs in heels and tights. “Get back to work, first years, or I’ll stuff your asses in maid outfits too!”

**Author's Note:**

> [plumtreeforest.tumblr.com](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com)


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